Baby Steps
by Robin Zimmerman
Summary: Sheyla. Contact with a new race leads to serious problems for John. Remake of a previous story, a good deal has changed.
1. Mission Objective

**A/N:** This is a remake of a story I did before. I'm changing it around a good bit after this. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.

_**Mission Objective- John**_

_Shuffle._

Bare feet moved quickly and quietly as the opponents righted their stance. John shifted his right shoulder forward to act as a guard against Teyla's attacks. Looking up from her hips where he was checking for movement, he saw that smile on her face once again. She had been wearing it ever since he had agreed to start sparring with her again. This was their first session since briefly before her pregnancy, and he was glad to see that his skills hadn't become rusty. They had improved, in fact. Working with Ronon seemed to have helped him quite a bit. It was a relief to stand here facing Teyla again, though. He missed the energy he felt when they circled each other in the rarely used gym room. He never felt closer to her than when they were feinting and attacking with the Athosian sticks that now felt firm and sure in his hands. He likened it to playing drums. His friend had learned the instrument and he remembered noticing how over time the way his friend held the sticks changed, became more relaxed and confident as his skills improved. Fighting with the _bantos_ had become like that now.

But he was thinking about that smile. He couldn't place it. It was a small upturning of her lips, subtle and yet bathing her face in amusement. It hadn't shifted even when he had managed to get in a strike or two of his own. In fact, it seemed to have increased its intensity. He was about to ask her what she was so happy about when she lashed out quickly with her _bantos_ and caught him off-guard. He barely got his arm up in time to deflect what would have been a very painful blow to the ribs. Feinting for her legs, John rotated on his back leg and swung his arm in a wide arc that almost caught her at the back of her neck. She ducked just in time, watching him with the ever present smile.

They dodged and parried fluidly as time ticked by. John began to feel a slight ache in his biceps from deflecting all those blows, and sweat trickled irritatingly down his spine, but he hadn't ended up on the floor yet, and she appeared to be tiring just as steadily as he was. Though, in fairness, he hadn't been pregnant not that long ago. It humbled him to see how quickly she had recovered and kept up with him. Hell, she certainly had her figure back… John couldn't dwell on that thought for long as she aimed for his head. She twirled with the blow and ended up behind him. She smacked him on what was most definitely his rear before he managed to turn around to face her. Her eyes were laughing now.

"Someone's in a good mood." She quirked an eyebrow at him. Licking his lips to hide a smile, John parried a blow before continuing. "You're all… glowy and stuff." The other eyebrow raised at that. "More than usual."

"I glow?" She laughed at that.

"Sure. Ever since, you know, you had Torren." They circled each other distractedly, both focusing more on the conversation than fighting. "You keep smiling at me."

"Am I not allowed to smile?"

"Yeah, but I get the feeling I'm missing something. Do I have something on my face?" He feigned worry and moved over to the window as if to check himself. Teyla tapped him on the shoulder with a stick and shook her head, grinning at him.

"No, John. There is nothing… on your face." What was with that pause?

"Somewhere else then?"

"No." He tried to surreptitiously check that his fly was zipped. She noticed and laughed outright.

"Ok, then what?" She tried to look nonchalant.

"Nothing."

"Hm, alright. You look great, by the way. Never woulda guessed you had been with child not that long ago." Ok, so that was a bit of blatant flirting, but hey, give credit where credit's due. She looked hot. Her answering smile was radiant. Damn, it was good to be back on good terms. He had really felt adrift there for awhile. That weirdness between them had been hard to take. Not seeing her unless it was to do with a mission, imagining her with another man… She wasn't with anyone right now, thought he still didn't know what had happened between Kanaan and herself, and he couldn't help but feel relieved. It meant there was always hope.

Teyla twirled a _bantos_ and looked up at him from her eyelashes. God, was she _flirting_ with him?

"You don't look bad yourself, John." She _was_! Her voice was low and, dear lord, a little breathy. John couldn't help himself when he laughed out loud, and she began right along with him. The moment was surreal, portentous and…

_"Woolsey to Sheppard, Teyla." _

Damn!

John ground his teeth a little as Teyla laughingly answered the com.

"We are here."

_"Briefing in half an hour."_

"We will be there." She looked over at John, the light still in her eyes. She twirled the sticks in both hands as she made her way over to the window seat where their gear was held. John followed her, more than just a little disappointed. They had been having _fun_, something he had seriously lacked for far too long now. He used a little more force than was necessary as he stuffed his things roughly into his gym bag. Teyla reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. When he looked up she was smiling softly at him. Giving him a light squeeze, she walked out of the gym and left him feeling happier, just with her touch. It promised something.

Teyla breathed a sigh of what might have been relief or frustration as she made her way to her quarters. Torren was being entertained by the ever willing ladies of Atlantis right now, so she made her way straight to her room and hurriedly undressed, not caring where her clothes landed. Only once her face met the warm spray of the water did she allow herself to think again. To think about him.

Earlier, as she had been getting ready for her sparring session with John, she had been almost giddy. Happiness coursed through her like a continuous wave. It had been too long since they had spent any real time together, just each other. She had been looking forward to this ever since they had arranged it. The awkwardness was gone, and there was a new kind of openness to John. He had openly flirted with her, and seemed to have greatly enjoyed her attention when she flirted back. It felt as if a barrier that had been there before had lowered a little bit, letting her see more of him. Teyla looked down at her body, her stomach. It was almost back to its normal flatness, but there was a light curve there. He had noticed. He had said she looked great. Teyla fought the urge to giggle and quickly set about washing herself, getting ready for the upcoming meeting.

Twenty minutes later she was showered and dressed and was making her way towards Woolsey's office. Ronon fell into step beside her. He took one look at her and smirked.

"What are you so happy about?"

"I have been asked that already. I am no happier than usual." John appeared at the next corner.

When their eyes met they both smiled bigger and looked away. Ronon noticed.

"Right. You're not happy." His voice was lace with good humoured sarcasm. As they entered the office Teyla and John took seats apart, both feeling self conscious. Rodney burst into the room already in full rant mode.

"Hope to hell we are _not_ going back to that planet where they had the Stargate as their main attraction. It is a monument of scientific genius, and they use it as part of their fairground!" He was so worked up he didn't sit down.

"Thought you liked them. Got all chatty and everything. You couldn't shut up when…" Ronon trailed off as Dr Keller entered the room. He quickly realized he had stopped talking mid-sentence and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. No one had. Rodney quickly picked up where he had left off, and now John had joined in, needling the scientist. Jennifer looked a little overwhelmed. What was she doing here?

Teyla, meanwhile, was ignoring those around her. Her thoughts were back on John. Around the time when she had started a romantic relationship with her childhood friend, Kanaan, she had been in a vulnerable place. She had given up on John ever admitting his interest in her. Oh yes, she had always known he was interested. She just didn't know how much. John had only shown so far that he was interested in casual affairs, as was proved by his dalliances with alien woman. Teyla wanted a lot more from him than that. It had taken her almost four years to become consciously aware of it, but once she had John had just seemed too far away. A relationship with John would involve feelings and emotions that he didn't seem to be ready for. Neither was she, honestly. The attraction between herself and Kanaan had been so open and safe in comparison. She knew what his feelings for her were. She hadn't planned on having a child with him, but she did not regret it.

Then she remembered John's face as she had told him she was pregnant. The hurt and anger there had been so blatantly obvious and she had felt like screaming at him. If her being with another man affected him so deeply then why, why, _why_ hadn't he done something about it? A small voice in her head asked her the same question, but she pushed it away. She _knew_ why she hadn't made the first move. She was not going over that again.

Then, when Torren was born, John had been so good to them both. He had held the child in his arms as if the kid was his. The look in his eyes had been so proud that she almost wished her son _was_ John's. He was such an intensely private man. She felt that was the core of why he had never taken them forward that step. She felt like she was no closer to touching it.

Teyla was brought out of her reverie as Woolsey cleared his throat. She hadn't noticed him come in.

"Major Lorne and his team have just come back from PX- 8332. They are interested in trading their military technology for some of our medical expertise. As you know, much of their weapons technology are is more advanced than our own, but their medical ability is poor."

"There's something wrong about that, if you ask me," came Ronon's gruff voice.

"Yes, well, SGA-1 and Dr Keller are to go negotiate an alliance with them. Dr Keller, you have those medical items they requested?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Teyla, I'll be relying primarily on you for negotiations. They claim to have traded with Athosions in the past."

"Yes, but not in my time." John shifted in his seat to speak to her.

"What happened?"

"I honestly do not know. Little was said of them."

"Did you leave on good terms?"

"I am afraid I do not know." Teyla shrugged a little. Woolsey picked up the conversation.

"They appear friendly enough. I expect you to depart with in within the next half hour. Dismissed."

They all rose in unison and headed towards the ready room. Jennifer patiently allowed Rodney to explain to her what was needed for going off-world, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. She nodded her head sagely and pursed her lips in the little smile Ronon found so alluring. Looking away from them he watched Teyla and the colonel. Teyla found herself beside John as she zipped up her vest and he clipped his P-90 to the front of his uniform. The air was somewhat tense between them, but not in an overly unpleasant way. It just felt like there was a lot to be said. Ronon broke the tension when he came over just to interrupt them. He smirked at Teyla when John walked away somewhat hurriedly, and she shook her head at him knowingly. Geared up and ready to go, they headed to the gate room where the intense blue light awaited them.

Stepping through, they came out the other end into a what at first looked like a busy market place, but was in fact a centre for entertainment. Three men and their entourage waited for them at the bottom of the steps of the dais the Stargate had been built on. The leader stepped forward and extended his hand to John in universal greeting. The clothes they wore were tight and yet seemed to distort their figures rather than define it. Teyla found it a little unnerving.

"Welcome." The man's gesture was expansive, arms swept out wide. "We are pleased to encounter a people with technology comparable to our own. Please, follow me." They were lead away from the hustle and bustle of the thorough fair and to a series of buildings made of a sheer black stone

It was then that everything went wrong.

**A/N:** Dun-dun-_dun!!_

By the way, anyone have a title? I can't think of one..


	2. Kalethan

A/N:

Thank you so much for reviewing.

_**Kalethan- Teyla**_

They followed the oddly dressed men towards a set of buildings made of a sheer black stone. Looking around her, Teyla watched as people went by in droves, each group in different coloured clothes. Their envoy explained that social distinction was of paramount importance in Kalethan society, and people were most often distinguished by the colours they wore, though clothing style at every level was similar. It seemed they had no use for fashion, and the designs were utilitarian, with the focus on function. The idea that people at different levels could not talk to each other socially was an unpleasant concept for Teyla, who thought back on her own people. She began to suspect that this was one of the reasons behind why her people and the Kalethan ceased trading. Their were no clear distinctions between her people, everyone helping and doing the work of others. Many only differed in respect, as materialism was not a concept of Athosian culture. Even competition held no place except in martial fighting, and that was a necessary method for survival and improving their abilities against the Wraith.

They entered through a side door, which immediately set Teyla on alert. The room they entered had white-washed walls and contained a long metal table. Not the most welcoming of chambers. There were an exact number of chairs for each of them.

"Seems odd you knew how many of us were coming." John said as he was led to a chair at the head of the table. His team and the Kalethans sat along the sides, a space between the Kalethan's and outsiders, leaving John feeling over-exposed.

"Lucky guess," came the shortest man's reply. He had fly away hair combed over a bald spot, and he appeared to be sweating despite the chillness of the room. Teyla gathered that he was the head of the envoy. Ronon was sitting beside Teyla, and he leaned over towards her, whispering in her ear.

"Something's not right."

"I know." Teyla glanced at John, who was sitting very stiffly in his chair. Outwardly he looked calm, but she could tell he was feeling uncomfortable, with the Kalethan's eyes on him. They had yet to look at anyone else but the lieutenant colonel.

"No, something's _really_ not right." The vehemence in his voice set Teyla on edge. She began viewing everything that was said and done in a threatening way, though it wasn't such a stretch. The air began to feel colder.

"It is a pleasure to have you here, Atlanteans, Athosian and Satedan. My name is Chiles Arkham Thane. These are my aides." He gestured to the men on either side, but did not give them names. "And your names are?" Each team member identified themselves, but he stopped paying attention after John introduced himself. All eyes remained on him. Teyla opened up negotiations, and Jennifer said her piece about Atlantis' medical ability. This was the main point of the meeting, and yet the main focus of the Kalethans seemed to be Sheppard. Every question was asked of him, even though it was Teyla or Jennifer who ultimately answered. Ronon sat on the edge of his seat, and Sheppard, originally taking the attention in good humour, was getting more suspicious by the minute. Rodney's questions went unanswered, and any questions about their own technology were deflected.

Jennifer moved to show them the medical supplies she had brought, but John motioned under the table for her not to.

"So, Mr. Thane," John leaned forward on his elbows. "You told us the last time we were here a little about your weapons technology."

"Yes, yes. In exchange for some of your medical technology." He immediately turned it back around towards them with the precision of a trained diplomat. Teyla readied a reply but it seemed John had had enough. He spoke first.

"Seems as if we've been giving you all of our information. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding the subject." Jennifer coughed at Sheppard's bluntness. Teyla felt the need to intervene, but before she could get a word out Thane spoke.

"Quite right. We have a good reason for that."

_Clank._

John waited for further noise, noise of an attack. Nothing happened.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." John was on his feet, as was Ronon. Jennifer was staring at the table top as if it could solve her problems, and the Kalethans were looking around them as if they were waiting for something. Teyla adjusted her P-90 on her lap, ready for anything that might happen.

A door they hadn't noticed before opened from behind John. As such, he was the first to be hit by their stun weapons. Ronon got two shots off before he was taken down. Within three seconds the fight was over, all the visitors subdued.

* * *

Teyla woke up to find herself on the floor of a cell. Ronon was already at the bars, glaring at something beyond. The cell was large enough for the big man to pace in, but Rodney was lying in the middle of the floor, his body splayed out. Jennifer was lying on the only pallet. She was still unconscious, so Teyla suspected that Ronon had put her there.

Her head ached, and her body felt stiff. She tried to get up, but her legs were shaky, and she felt light headed. She had a small cut on her forehead from where she must have hit it when she fell unconscious. Wiping the dried blood away, she looked around for John, but he wasn't in the cell with them. Getting up, she moved over towards Ronon. The corridor outside their cell was empty. There was a vacant cell beside them, but that was it.

"What do you think they want?" Ronon turned to her.

"I don't know. Where is John?"

"Haven't seen him."

"Do you think he is who they were after?"

"They didn't pay any attention to the rest of us, and John's the only one of us with the Ancient gene, as far as they know."

"You noticed that, too?"

"They didn't take their eyes off him. And they definitely weren't going to tell us anything about their weapons technology. This smelled wrong from the start."

"I agree, but that does not help our situation. Have they demanded anything of us?"

"A guard walked by ten minutes ago, but he didn't say anything."

"Wha-huh?" Jennifer twisted on the bed and swung her legs over the side. Teyla and Ronon moved to stand around her. She wavered a little bit and Ronon grabbed her arm.

"Hey, you ok?"

"Where are we?" She looked around her. "Oh! Is Rodney ok?" She jumped off the pallet and kneeled at his side.

"We are all fine, Jennifer. However, John is missing." Teyla moved over to the bars and tried to look towards the end of the corridor.

"Missing? Wasn't he stunned first?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't put on the cell with us." Ronon's gruff voice was laced with concern.

From down the corridor they heard a door open and then close. The sound of footsteps and something being dragged came closer to their cell.


	3. Methodology

_**Methodology - Teyla**_

Leaning to look up the corridor as far as she could, Teyla gasped when she realised John was being dragged in by two guards. She had known this was coming, of course, but there's a difference between knowing and _seeing_. She could not tell what was wrong with him from here, other than that he was unconscious. Ronon growled beside her, the noise low in his throat. The big man had become very protective of his team mates. The guards drew closer, stopping outside the cell next to the one the rest of the team was in. They heaved John onto the pallet and exited the cell. One of the guards came to stand in front of Ronon.

Thinking there was nothing but bars between them, Ronon lashed out to grab him by the throat. His fist connected with an invisible force field between the bars and repelled him backwards. He skidded on the floor to rest beside Rodney and Jennifer. Jumping to his feet, he made his way back to the bars and sniffed in aggravation, flexing his shoulders. Teyla slapped the bars with the palm of her hand.

"What have you done to him?" Her jaw was set in anger. If only there were no bars between them, she'd show them what happened when you harmed _her_ man…

"Nothing he cannot recover from." The man's accent was clipped and lilting, each syllable a different register. He smiled exceptionally white teeth at her. "Food." He motioned for the fellow guard to go retrieve it, coming back with a plate with bowls of some tomatoes-smelling soup and thick slices of bread. "Breakfast." After placing it within a slot in the bars, the guards turned around and left, marching at a brisk pace. Looking at the food, Teyla realised there was no food for the Lieutenant Colonel.

"What about John?" Laughter met her echoing voice. "John?" Teyla and Jennifer made their way over to the bars leading to John's cell. He way lying down on the far wall facing away from them. He had curled in on himself in a foetal position, but he still seemed to be knocked out. No amount of calling or shouting could wake him up.

"There's blood on his leg." Jennifer squinted closer, but his dark BDUs hid any other injuries. She touched the space between the bars and felt a jolt go through her hand and arm. "Looks like we can't give him any food or water."

"Water?" Teyla glanced at the doctor.

"Yeah, there's a faucet over there." She pointed to the far corner behind her. Teyla hadn't noticed, which was unlike her. It was taking longer than usual for her mind to clear after being stunned. She grit her teeth and tried to focus her mind. Everyone ceased talking, lost in their own thoughts. Rodney woke up groggy and confused, but was soon appraised of the situation, after which he fell into an uncharacteristic silence, glancing repeatedly over at John's still form. Eventually, Teyla just had to ask:

"What is it, Rodney? There is something you are not telling us."

"I don't _know _anything."

"But you suspect something." He sighed before he responded.

"I was thinking about what we _did_ find out about them, last time we were here. All those stupid questions I asked," he turned to glare at John, before remembering his team mate's current condition. He frowned inwardly. "I was _thinking_ that…"

"Out with it, McKay." Ronon folded his arms and leaned beside the bars next to the bed that Jennifer and Rodney were sitting on. His voice held no patience for the scientist's avoidance.

"They specialise in weapons technology, right? Well, whose to say torture methods aren't a part of that? " Rodney stood up as his theory gained momentum, and he gestured over at John. "They couldn't stop looking at him, and we know they're interested in Ancient technology; since none of their own have the Ancient gene, then that's why they want John. This whole thing with their inferior medical technology got me thinking; what if the reason for their lack of medical knowledge is some kind of Archaic way of thinking? You know, 'If they're too sick to work, kill them.' Think about it, their surgery skills are rudimentary, they have next to know antibiotics and not once did they mention any kind of medical facility. And think about what they were asking us for: anaesthesia techniques, how to stop bleeding, sutures and the like. They weren't interested in curing disease."

"Rodney's right." A light went on behind Jennifer's eyes, and then she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh! Oh, Rodney! You don't think…?"

"That's _exactly_ what I think." Jennifer seemed to deflate.

"What?" Teyla could not quell her impatience. When McKay and Keller just stared at each other Ronon snapped.

"What? You two brainiacs come up with something?" Surprise flittered across Ronon and Jennifer's face. That was the first time he had ever 'kind of' insulted her. He looked at her as if to apologise, but John began to stir.

_It was so unfair. David and Dad were out playing and they'd left John in the sitting room, watching stupid cartoons. The little boy was so miffed he just sat on the couch with his arms folded and glared sullenly at his feet, which were not even long enough to dangle yet. His socks were richly coloured in his favourite football team's colours._

_Snaking her head around the door, Sarah Sheppard watched her son huff in annoyance. Smiling to herself, she walked into the kitchen._

_When John looked up at the door, she was just coming in, her hands behind her back. "Jay? What's wrong?" She was American born but had spent much of her life in South Africa. Her accent reflected this, as did her propensity to refer to people by their initials. John frowned. She knew very well what was wrong with him, so he just turned his head away. His mother smiled. "You know you couldn't go. You're too young."_

"_By _two_ years. Two!" He held up two fingers in emphasis._

"_I know. I know." She moved to stand in front of him, leaning over slightly. Suddenly she shouted out 'Surprise!' and threw a handful of confetti in the air. John was shocked for a moment, but he soon began giggling. She showed him what was in the other hand: a cereal box full of confetti. John eagerly stuffed a hand in and pulled out a fist of colourful paper. He jumped off the couch and threw it around him, throwing the last little bit at his mother. She retaliated in kind._

_Patrick Sheppard came home with his eldest son to find the house in a state. Cushions and strips of paper were flung everywhere, and the newspaper and magazine rack under the stairs was nearly empty where it had been full before they left. Walking into the kitchen they found John and his mother sitting on the floor, laughing so hard they were crying._

John groggily began to return to the world of the living, his vision clearing from colourful snow to a solid grey wall. He hadn't had that dream in awhile. It was one of his few vivid memories of his mother. She was always like that ; vibrant and unpredictable. She had been the colour in an otherwise black family. The house had always been bright and full of life when she was alive, but it had been reduced to a shell when she died, a house that made you feel like whispering just from walking on the threshold.

John became aware of himself bit by bit. First was his head. It_ ached_. There was a constant pressure behind his eyes. He began to move his arm up to press against the bridge of his nose, but was overcome by a wave of nausea. It rolled over him in rapid succession, making him gag. He first drew his companion's attention when he began to dry -retch. They called out to him, but he did not have the strength to reply.

Next came his neck and shoulders. He could not remember ever having strained a muscle this bad. They felt bunched up in knots, but the pain was minor in comparison to his head. He couldn't feel his left leg from the knee down.

He lay there for an indeterminate amount of time. He may have lost consciousness again but he wasn't sure. He slowly became aware of one sound over the buzzing in his head: Teyla's voice. She was calling his name. He searched for that hidden place inside him where he went to for his last vestiges of strength and worked up the will and energy to lift his left arm in salute to where ever she was behind him. He wondered idly why she wasn't beside him, but then darkness took him back under.

He had stopped coughing now, and appeared to have fallen asleep as his breathing had eased. His only reaction to them calling his name had been raising his hand limply in response to Teyla's question. The sound of him coughing and choking had worried her, but Jennifer assured her that even if he managed to get sick he was lying on his side so there was little chance he'd choke himself. She had many explanations as to why he didn't turn around and talk to them, but none of them were good.

Ronon was pacing the room like a wild animal, his rage palpable. Teyla was trying to figure out how much time had passed. Had they been gone long enough for Atlantis to send a rescue party? She assumed they were on the same planet. She had not heard of the Kalethans inhabiting any other worlds. She thought back on her childhood, wondering if she had ever heard anything about these people the Athosions had ceased trade with. That in itself was an ominous sign, but the Kalethans had been so gracious during the original first contact with Atlantis that she had assumed the normal reasons did not apply. Now she knew they most likely did. Athosions only ceased trade when the other people had some trait that they found abhorrent: abortion, hanging, slave labour, among other things. Ronon did one more circuit of the cell before turning on Keller and McKay.

"What was that you guys were saying earlier? That epiphany you had."

"Oh, well, um… It's not good." Jennifer looked as if she would really not go into details, so McKay picked up the thread.

"That would be an understatement, but I won't be able to tell for definite until Sheppard wakes up and tells us what happened to him."

"Tell us what you think, Rodney." Teyla's voice was strained with forced patience.

"Alright, but remember that this is just conjecture." They nodded. "Torture methods! It's like Hitler's Germany, or Napoleon, Vlad the Impaler." The two Pegasus Galaxy residents looked nonplussed. "Where their medical technology specialised in experimentation and extermination. No? Anyway, their idea of medicine wasn't in healing the sick, but in ,well, creating monstrosities." He chuckled a little bit at his own joke, but realising his audience wasn't buying it he briskly continued. "They did these experiments where they sewed twins together along their backs and removed and reattached limbs without anaesthetic.

"I think the Kalethans are doing something similar, but instead of searching for an Arian race, they're looking for the answers to the Ancestor gene."

"We've been doing that for years." Ronon sounded sceptical.

"True, but we're humane. Creating Michael is the closest thing we've done to ignoring our ethics. These people, if I am right in thinking they have no use for infirm or sick citizens, instead use medicine to probe for answers, not cure disease."

"I am sorry, Rodney, but I do not see how you could have jumped to that conclusion. Or you, Jennifer." Teyla looked over at the doctor, who was looking pale and sick. Sitting down beside her, Teyla wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She did not understand the doctors reaction. She had heard a little of this 'Hitler', but it was obvious it was something of Earth's history they were not proud of.

"It's just, and I think Rodney agrees with me, it's just…" Jennifer struggled to find the words. "It, it _feels_ like some of the stories I heard when I studied history in high school. You guys can't understand, because you don't know our history, but… We've seen that even good people can be corrupted into doing bad by a charismatic voice, and the people here are so controlled and regimented… It's not really a jump in conclusion." She looked up at Ronon. He frowned at her, unsure of what she wanted, then he moved to her side and clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, as I said, we can't know until they give us some more information or Sheppard wakes up."

Sheppard slowly came to again, the pounding in his head still strong but when he tried to move the wave of nausea wasn't quite as bad. Slowly, oh so slowly he rolled onto his back, but the position did something bad to his stomach and he cried out in pain. Turning quicker this time he curled up on his other side. He lay there, breathing in and out, in and out… slow breaths to ease the pain. It didn't do much, but he felt like he was doing something to help. Moments fluttered by before he became aware of people calling his name. Opening his eyes a crack, they landed on blurry figures across the room. Seeing that much seemed to clear his ears of whatever had muffled them and now he could here clearly what the voices he now recognised as his team mates were saying.

"Sheppard. Sheppard!" _What!_ John felt like shouting back, but all that came out was a hoarse wheeze. Ronon called his name again. Rodney called out "can you talk?" _If I could talk I'd talk!_

"I don't think he can, Rodney."_ Thank you for the obvious, Jennifer._

"Leave him be. He will speak when he can."_ Thank you, Teyla. In a non-sarcastic way this time._

_Clang._

The sound of a metal door being opened and closed reverberated down the hall, followed swiftly by footsteps.

**A/N:** I like cliff-hangers… Its R.L. Stine's fault. Half of his books ended in cliff-hangers…


	4. Losing Mummy

**A/N:** Thank you for reviewing and favouriting. Sorry this is so late; I got very ill for awhile.

_**Losing mummy - Teyla**_

The footsteps came steadily closer. Teyla could discern three separate footsteps, each slightly out of sync with the others. Ronon stiffened beside her, and Rodney and Jennifer rose up off the pallet to stand by the bars. Three men in a dark green uniform stopped outside John's cell. Teyla saw John trying to shift to face them, but he couldn't manage it. He closed his eyes in frustration, and Teyla's heart went out to him. Her attention was diverted back to the men who were now disengaging the force field around John's cell and unlocking the lock.

"Just checking up on our patient." The snide guard from earlier was back. He began to show a sadistic side when he moved over to where John lay and sat down on his wounded leg. John tried to bite back his cry but wasn't completely successful, and Ronon growled beside Teyla, smacking his fists off the bars. Teyla couldn't see John's face because he had buried it in bedding. The guard sniffed audibly and looked down on him. The other guards stood just in the cell with their hands held formally behind their back. They showed no reaction to anything that was going on around them, staring straight a head at the opposite wall in a true show of stoicism. "Stand up, we'll give you a physical." He barked out a laugh at his own joke, and Dr Keller began to mutter 'oh, no' under breath.

"What do you want of him?" Teyla kept her voice steady and controlled.

"We want the stars." Jumping to his feet, he motioned one of the other guards forward. He stood smiling at the team as the other man pulled back the material on Sheppard's leg, ripping it roughly from where it had stuck in the dried blood, checking the wound. He then took John's temperature and blood pressure with devices that might have been used on Earth a hundred years ago. Getting up, he nodded at the sadistic guard, who then nodded at John and tapped his leg. John grit his teeth and said nothing, his face still buried. "That's it. All done. 'Till tomorrow, Ancient man." The three briskly left, locking the cell and turning on the force field before they disappeared down the corridor.

"Sheppard, are you alright?" Jennifer got a grunt in reply. "What's wrong with your leg? What happened?" He shifted a little bit so he could speak clearly.

"They were trying to strap me onto some table, but I fought them and was overwhelmed. It got impaled on some.. metal thing, I'm not sure really 'cause they drugged me just after." His voice sounded weak and distant; he was struggling to get the words out.

"Does it burn?"

"No, I don't think it's infected."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just some bruises." The last word came out barely intelligible.

"What's wrong? You look awful. Oh!" Covering her mouth in mortification at what she had just said, he just smiled wanly.

"Some… drug. The migraine's making me sick."

"What did the drug do to you?" Teyla felt that maybe now wasn't the best time to be asking questions. He was getting steadily weaker, his voice harder to hear.

"Made me… see stuff."

"What?"

"Hm." He stopped talking after that, regardless of what he was asked. Jennifer eventually stopped, but she looked worried.

"Keller, what…?" Ronon wasn't sure what to ask.

"Um, well, it could be many things. I mean, Earth has loads of mind-altering drugs. Who knows what they have here, especially if it unlocks the Ancient gene. It's effecting his body really bad, though. They probably have no idea about safe doses and things like that."

"I doubt they care." Jennifer looked at Ronon sadly.

" I think you're right."

_This had been going on for weeks. John felt so alone, but he couldn't keep from going home any longer; it was already dark. His curfew was six, but this was a test, after all. The test was that he had to be late. The streets were pretty intimidating at night, though… With all those looming hedges… John quickened his pace. It wasn't good for a twelve year old to be out at night. He'd seen the videos at school. It was dangerous._

_It had been three months since the Big Argument with his dad, and it had been just a week longer since his mum had died. The worst months of his short life, he hadn't only lost his mother… he'd lost his dad as well._

_Patrick Sheppard hadn't said a word to his son since the funeral, not a word of love, affection or anger. He came home from school everyday to a quiet house, where no one spoke to him. His dinner was put in front of him, but he was not acknowledged when he tried to become involved in the conversation between his brother and father. John didn't think his brother was angry with him, just following his father's lead. David had always been good that way._

_Mother had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of seventeen. Father had married her anyway. He was in love, after all. They had an amazing fifteen years, and then she went steadily downhill. Lots of hospital time. Her vision was the first thing to begin to go. It tore the family apart. No one had anything to say to each other because no one wanted to acknowledge that something was wrong. The adults didn't cope well with her losing her sight, they didn't adjust, and the awkwardness made things worse for the children who could hardly understand. His mum coped with it the best; she took each new turn for the worse with stoic acceptance. She never showed any indication of her pain to her children, and if she occasionally broke down when it was just herself and her husband- well, she was entitled to that._

_Then she died. Not of MS, but from an overdose on her pain medication. She did it at hospital, so it was a nurse who found her, not Patrick. John didn't think his dad could have coped if it had been him. In his grief Patrick Sheppard had been very blunt with his sons. He told them out right that she had commit suicide, no censure. He sat on a plastic chair with his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. John and David stood in front of him, paralysed. Then their father continued to talk, and he was angry._

_How could she have deprived him of their last few months together? They had still had time. He had never thought her a coward, but here she had taken her own life. This was the trail of thought his mind took; then John spoke his._

"_She wasn't a coward! She did it for us!" He really believed that. His mother had seen how her illness had tore them apart. She wanted to spare them from having to watch her get worse. They all knew it would get worse; her limbs would go, her senses… She was so loved by everyone it would have crushed them to watch her deteriorate. John's dad wasn't in the frame of mind to hear this. He was so cut uphe couldn't see straight, even if that meant arguing with a child who had just lost his mother._

_And they did argue. It got so heated, with both of them shouting, that a nurse had come along and asked them to leave. David just stood there. The car ride home was silent, and when they got home John just went to bed. When he woke up in the morning and went down to breakfast, things were still silent. Not a muttered 'hello'. And that's how things stayed._

_So here he was, just closing the front door behind him; glancing at the clock beside the hall telephone, he saw it was just after eight. He saw his father sitting in an arm chair in the sitting room. John went to stand in the door way- there was no reaction. John almost cried when he realised his father hadn't been worried that he was late. He hadn't worried at all. Running up to his room, John refused to cry as he slammed the door behind him._

_He would _not_ cry._

His father's anger spanned years. He never got over it, not that John could see. Patrick Sheppard became a shell of a man after his wife died, driven only by his business… and John was never counted as his little boy again.

**A/N:** I know I keep doing scenes with Sheppard all tired and a little out of it, but what can I say; I love a sleepy Sheppard! Do I need to change my rating?


	5. The Green Room

**A/N:** John's going to mention the near past, as in that day, so that's going to be noted by '' instead of italics.

_**The Green room - John**_

The sheets smelled musty, and John idly wondered who had slept in them before him. His leg was thankfully numb again, but his migraine was full force. He shifted on his side a bit, ignoring the nausea as best he could, and he heard Jennifer's worried voice.

"John? You awake?" He muttered something, which she took as hello. "You've been out for at least half an hour."

"How do you know?" Rodney piped up. "There's no clock in here."

"I have a good internal clock. Wakes me up the same time every morning, no matter how tired I am."

"Really? Mine get's screwed up if I don't sleep, or I go somewhere with a time difference…" _Hello?_ He's lying there in pain, and they'd just started up a full blown discussion on their internal clocks. Teyla cleared her throat to gain their attention.

_Good ol' Teyla…_ John's thoughts were random and haphazard, dream like. His hearing wavered in and out of focus. Ronon was talking this time.

"Hey, Sheppard, what'd they do to you? What do they want?"

"I think…" He needed to take a deep breath to stop from gagging. "The people th- they have here aren't strong when it comes to the Ancient… Ancient gene." His voice kept losing strength, and dammit, it was pissing him off. "They believe that these… hallucin..ogenic.. drugs they have will…" _What was it they had said?_ " 'Open me up to the Ancient's way of thinking'." Rodney looked nonplussed.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Doesn't matter what it means. How we getting out of here?" Ronon looked at Teyla.

"I believe we have been gone long enough for Atlantis to know something is wrong. Perhaps they have already started a rescue attempt."

"Do you think we're close to the gate?" No one had an answer. "Sheppard, what happened to you?"

'The lighting here was terrible. Shortly on the heels of that thought; _where the hell am I?_ John Sheppard was currently held up by a guard on either side, being dragged down a narrow corridor. The floor was of rough hewn stone, and there were puddles of water everywhere, coupled with the smell of damp. The lighting was a weak yellow, the corridors a green colouring. _Looks like something out of the X-Files._ He couldn't lift his head to see who held him. He couldn't get his legs under him. He was completely supported by who ever held him.

_Clank._

Another metal door was opened and John was pulled through, the tips of his boots catching on the bottom of the doorway. They pulled him free roughly, and John stumbled, for the first time since he woke up he could get his legs beneath himself. He felt a little stronger. Strong enough to lift his head.

_Weird_. This was defiantly something out of a sci-fi film, crossed with some of those basement experiment labs you saw on shows about World War I. The floor was layered with grit, dark stains pooled underneath a long metal table that included restraints at wrist and ankle. What looked like an IV stand was placed beside the head of the table, a needle dripping at the end. Monitors were placed along one side of the smallish room. The lighting in here was no better than the lighting out in the corridor. John felt a drip land on the back of his neck and he looked at the ceiling. Mould and dry rot painted patterns on the whitish-grey ceiling, spidery threads that travelled from one wall to the other. Water leaked at points, one of which he stood under. He noticed a metal pan at his feet, partially filled. His legs were still too weak to support a run for it. Metal implements rested on portable tables, a bit like in a dentist's room. The instruments looked just as appealing.

Someone cleared their throat, and John watched as a thin man entered through a door on the opposite wall. It was shut behind him, disappearing into the wall like the door at the negotiation meeting. Authority bled off the man, and he closed his eyes and breathed deep, his expression rapturous.

"Smell that?" he smiled at John. "No? It's glorious." he had a strange way of rolling his 'or's 'til they almost sounded like an 'l'. His clothing was similar to everyone else's, except a light grey where he now noticed the two guards who had brought him in wore green. He had pips on his collar, and John assumed they denoted his rank. He also had a red and gold ribbon on his lapel. "Smells of… suffering, don't you think?" John tried to laugh at his pathetic attempt to intimidate him, but he was promptly clubbed in the chest by the butt of a guard's rifle. He sank to his knees. "Now, now. No need to be facetious."

"What do you want?" It came out choked, as John was gritting his teeth. That had been one _hard_ hit. Might have cracked a rib.

"More than you can give, but it's a start. Strap him." The guards on either side moved to grab him, but Sheppard had his wits about him. He ducked under their arms and lunged across the room. He still wasn't at peak efficiency, and his lunge was weak. He ended up beside the man with the pips on his shoulder, who promptly stepped back, his hands coming up in front of him, even though John hadn't tried to attack him. John lost his footing, his legs still weak. A guard came up from behind and rammed into him. His left leg gave way, and he fell, hard, onto an overturned table. He cried out when his leg impaled on one of the sharp metal instruments. It sank into the thick muscle of his calf, exiting on the other side.

He tried to get up, but he couldn't support his own weight on his leg. The two guards levered him up roughly. John struggled, catching one man on the nose with the back his fist, the other was jabbed in the throat by his elbow. No matter how hard he struggled, in his weakened state he was easily overwhelmed. They shoved him ruthlessly to the ground and kicked him in the side mercilessly. He struggled to catch his breath, his hands up in front of his face. They stopped suddenly; he didn't see the silent signal from their boss. Dragging him to his feet, they quickly strapped him onto the table.

"_Sigh_, Mr. Sheppard. That was unnecessary. Now, stay still." He had a syringe in his hand containing a milky fluid. A guard held his arm still as he was injected with the mixture. "Relax, you'll feel the effects soon enough." Coldness seemed to flood John's body. As he stared at the ceiling the spidery patterns on the ceiling, he noticed the images began to sway, almost _reach_ out towards him. He tried to shake his head, but things just got worse. The colours bled into each other. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, his breathing harsh. He became disconnected from his body.

He became disconnected from himself…

**A/N:** This was so short because I knackered myself out reading non stop. I'm completely brain dead at the moment, but it was worth it.


End file.
